Category: Thinking

I think it’s safe to say I’ve gone beyond neglect with this whole blog thing and upgraded it to out right ignoring this space. And for that I’m sorry. I don’t have much of a reason except that life got in the way, my motivation waned and you all suffered as result. I almost shut this whole thing down as a lost cause but then I decided hey, for all 2 of you reading, I should keep going. Or maybe there aren’t even 2 of you out there. And that’s okay. I should just keep going for me. Self, I’m so glad you’re reading this right now.

Since I last wrote we had an election, the holidays, a new year, lots of sad celebrity death (let’s all pour one out for Carrie Fisher and Alan Rickman) and, with our new President in office just a few weeks, the complete removal of the foundations of our democracy.

What a swell time we live in folks.

I’ve intentionally kept politics off this blog. I have my reasons for doing so. First, for those of you that know me (which if there is a “you” reading this, there’s a strong chance you do) then you know I work in politics and have done so for the past decade. I really like that this blog isn’t a space for work. I like that it is for things like cooking, strong opinions on coloring and sharing silly links to thinks no one can argue with me about. Unless you are a weirdo and don’t like things like Harry Potter or Hello Kitty Wine chances are you can find some fun here. And that’s what I want. More fun. More funny. More laughing. Life doesn’t have enough of the fun, laughing, funnies these days. Or jokes made with improper grammar. (Wait, we maybe have enough of those? Sorry).

Except every since November 9, 2016 it seems like there are less and less reasons to laugh with the fun, funnies. Unless it is the hysterical, endless laughter that’s more like, wait, this can’t be happening? Is it happening? OMG IT IS HAPPENING!!! So, let’s just laugh? Because otherwise we will cry. Maybe we’ll laugh so hard we cry? That kind of laugh. Which is obviously the least fun of the laughs. Right behind polite laughter at unfunny speeches or worse, the forced laughter people give you when something isn’t funny but they are pretending it is. No one wants to hear your version of Chandler’s work laugh.

So, with that in mind, I’m here to say this: let’s just all agree that we can’t just sit here and share links about Kate Middleton’s dresses or ice cream bars that cure hang overs for the next 4 years. We should still do that. Heck, we might as well all load up on those ice cream bars. But, if you care at all for your children, your cat, the air you breathe, basic human decency, democracy, civil rights and justice or just your right to exist, you need to wake up. And get involved. In whatever way you can. I don’t think you need to become like me. I’m a little nuts. But, do something. Ideally in your community. Here’s what this matters.

I believe that this happened in part because a lot of people were mad and he gave them an outlet. I think a bigger reason it happened is because most rational people out there say, politics? Ugh, ain’t nobody got time for that. I don’t like it and I want no part of it. I’m going to sit here and pretend if I keep sitting here, doing my thing It won’t hit me. That is a bubble that I’m sorry to burst for you but POP, BANG, ZAP, ZIGGZO. It’s done. And it’s happening now. To all of us. We need you, rational human, to wake up. The ship has gone aground, the bird has flown the nest, the train is off the rails. (I am super not good at analogies but you get my point).

You might want to stay in your safe space, maybe you even think you are privileged enough to do so but let’s be real, this fool isn’t playing around. He is coming for us all. For anyone who thinks they are safe, I ask you to think real hard about that. He will find a way to make it so that if you don’t fit into the exact category of what he thinks of as “American.”

I refuse to even write his name here, which I know from reading my HP that might be giving him power. But it’s not really. It’s just not giving him acknowledgement. He is nothing to me except a figure to fight against. I remember a time when the thought of him being President made people laugh. SNL made a lot of jokes about it. It doesn’t seem so funny anymore.

I can’t promise I will suddenly become a excellent blogger again. If this month is any indication, those of us who resist and fight back with ever fiber of our being will be busier than ever these days. I hope you will be there with me. In whatever way you can, let’s do this.

Before I was 18, I moved exactly once. I was 12 and we moved from Portland to Gresham, Oregon, roughly 16 miles apart but it might has well have been the frozen tundra for how I felt about it.

Our family had outgrown our first home. I was sharing a room with my sister (something that was becoming more unbearable each night as I heard her talk in her sleep from the top bunk). But even the prospect of no longer waking up in the middle of the night from her babbling was enough to convince me leaving my friends was worth it.

I remember contemplating ways that I could handcuff myself to my closet so they wouldn’t be able move. I cried, threatened hunger strikes (an empty threat and my mom knew it) and then went sullen, resorting to sitting in my room listening to “It’s so Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday” by Boyz II Men on repeat and binge eating fun dip (Remember that stuff? Sugar you ate with a sugar stick, turning your tongue blue?)

But of course, it turned out that move was probably one of the best things that could have happened me. No one can fully explain the fear and excitement of being the new girl unless you’ve experienced it. Kids especially are enticed by anyone new which immediately tags you as “interesting” (at least for the first few weeks). I also learned that I have a skill of making friends with basically anyone and everyone around me, no matter the circumstances. I make friends waiting in line at the grocery store, on airplanes, in impossibly boring classes, on the subway.

The luxury of only moving once was something I only experienced as a kid. As an adult, I’ve lived in 3 states and so many places I lost count long ago. My parents left my childhood home and state when I turned 18 so I never even had a “home” to go home to. I had to make my own home.

I think for the better part of the last 12 years, I’ve been pretty fixated on the idea of home. How do you find it? Is it in people or a place? Both? How will I know when I’m finally “home”?

And here’s what I’ve come to realize, I’m not even sure home really exists. Or at least, not as we imagine it to be. The Texan always says “there is no supposed to be, there just is.” Meaning that we often create our own disappointment by believing there is a certain way to do things but in the end, it’s just life and everyone has a different path (and no ones path is perfect no matter how good their facebook page makes it seem).

I can’t really get over the idea of a place = home even though I realize it is more than that. We all learn in elementary school that the setting to the story is very important. The setting can even be a character in of itself, like how New York felt to me when I lived there. And the setting for this character is still unsettled. And I’m not sure if it ever really will feel settled. Maybe that’s just life.

You know those moments in life when you turn an embarrassing moment into a life lesson? Like making super embarrassing lemons into delicious lemonade? I do this regularly. Last year, I went to this super fancy hair salon in LA and they totally called me out on the horrible, awful, no good, very bad shampoo I was using. My first reaction was to hang my head of sub par hair in shame and walk out of the salon never to return.

But, then they introduced me to a new shampoo that literally changed my hair life. I have the kind of hair that totally pulls a Monica when there is even an ounce of moisture in the air. The new shampoo totally checks my outer Ms. Frizzle. (Shout out to the geeks that remember Magic School Bus).

The discovery of the magical (and stupidly expensive because that’s the way these things go) shampoo led me to think that there were probably loads of other things I could invest in that would pay major beauty dividends later. Like beauty stocks. Or something. (I don’t really understand stocks). The slightly annoying thing about beauty products is there are so dang many of them! It’s really hard to say, yes, this is the ONE. It’s like seeking the holy grail if the holy grail were to take the form of a really amazing BB cream. And the quest involves less rabid bunny rabbits and more waiting in line at Sephora.

So, in an attempt to bring us all one step closer to our own beauty grail, I’ve decided to regularly share some of the new beauty products I’ve discovered that I’m currently crushing on hard. Have you discovered any amazing beauty products that changed your beauty life? Share them in the comments!!

5 Beauty Products you should totally try, like, now:

Oribe Shampoo and Conditioner: This is the magical shampoo I referred to and it is seriously worth every penny. It’s so good I wash my hair way less (also I’m kinda lazy but the shampoo definitely helps). The slot machine capital of America shockingly doesn’t care about luxury hair products so I’ve had to resort to buying it online either on their website or on Amazon.

Too Faced: Better than Sex mascara: I know, the name is a little ridiculous. But seriously, you guys, this mascara is amaaaazzzzing. Think thick, luscious lashes, all the live long day. I think if I was limited to only 1 beauty product it might be this mascara, it’s that good. You can find it at Sephora or Ulta.

Neutrogena Deep Moisture Night Cream: I totally didn’t get why people use different lotion at night until I tried this stuff. I woke up the next morning feeling like my face was replaced by a soft little peach. (Not really, that would be creepy! But so soft!) Good news, it’s totally affordable and you can find it at your local drug store. Score!

Pacifica CC cream: I’ve never been a big fan of foundation. It might be that I’ve just never found the right one but it always left me feeling a little bit like I just put pancake batter on my face. So, I fell in love when BB creams became a serious thing because they are so much lighter. This Pacifica cream is awesome, goes on smooth and looks flawless. You can find it at Ulta and also Target.

Tarte Eyebrow Mousse: There is a thin line between shading in your eyebrows beautifully or looking like this lady featured on an actual website called Ghetto Redhot. That being said, I am absolutely in favor of eyebrow enhancing. This mousse is great, comes with a brush (woot) and will last you approximately a million years. A worthy investment. Like everything in this post, you can find it at Ulta and Seophora.

It’s obvious from just a quick glance at this blog that I truly love a good story. Truthfully, I’m kind of shoddy at telling stories in person because I get too excited to get to the good bit and end up skipping over some of the details thereby neglecting the build up. As with many things between me and my mate, the Texan is the opposite. He can tell a story like only a true Southerner can; slow and detailed, with a few funny bits, building up the anticipation so that by the end you are hanging on his every drawl (though maybe that’s just me).

This love for a good story explains my passion for books. One of my favorite short story collections, We Are the Stories We Tell, is a great example of some incredible stories by women that I can read over and over again. But, good stories aren’t limited to books.

And, in my opinion, few people on earth can tell a story like Ira Glass. If you are one of the few people reading this who hasn’t yet discovered the sheer joy that is This American Life, you can thank me now. It’s so good that I’ve willingly sat in my car after braving hours of traffic just so I can hear the end of the podcast. This morning, at the gym, I ended up listening to an old episode The Leap which asked a question that I’m still thinking about. If you could travel back in time, would you?

I would remiss if I didn’t mention books that wrestle with this very question. The Time Travelers Wife, (which was mentioned by a commenter), is one of my favorite books. It’s not giving much away to say that the time traveler meets his wife when she is a little girl. Just think about that, what an interesting and kind of surreal experience that would be. Though honestly from some of the shenanigans I’ve heard about my husbands childhood, I wonder how I would feel having been there when he knocked over the port-a-potty with a boy still in it. Another great series on time travel that I’m slowly working my way through is the Outlander series. In this series, the main character travels back in history 200 years and wonders whether her actions can change the past. Its good fun and also a bit of historical fiction which I’ve been utterly obsessed with lately. Nothing like learning through a good story.

So, the question remains, if you could travel back in time, would you? I think younger Caro would have quickly answered yes, if nothing else than for the excitement of going back and seeing things again with the knowledge I have now. But now? I don’t think I would do it. I’ve never been one for going back. Just ask my ex-boyfriends (ha). No, but seriously, once it’s done, I’m done. About a year before I got engaged, I had an ex reach out to me. This was a man boy who I truly was obsessed with in my early 20’s that treated me like dirt. He was always hot and cold, a situation one puts up with when they are young and stupidly unaware of the power and awesomeness they possess. He said he regretted not going to an event with me and that he did care for me a lot more than he let on. And I felt? Nothing. I guess my 24 year old self was vindicated but she isn’t around anymore to do a happy dance. He isn’t alone in men who have said something along these lines to me well after our affair is over. And I kind of hate them for it. Because seriously, how easy is it to idealize the past? We can pick and choose the memories we believe about our history and the people we once knew. But re-living it means you also have to re-live being broke and living in a 5th floor walk up in a bedroom the size of your bed and no laundry machine. And, honestly, no one really wants to go back to that.

So, dearest readers, would you travel back in time if you could? What would you do different if you could? I would love to know.

So, I know I literally just said I wasn’t going to blog about exercise because it’s super boring (in a post about knitting, the irony is not lost on me) but you’re at my party, so I’m allowed to contradict myself a bit.

A serious question for you, dear reader; when you start enjoying exercise, nay even looking forward to it, does that mean you’ve officially reached maturity? Because something happened to me, around like 26, I started to crave exercise. I would get grumpy, not from being hungry, but from not running. It was a strange feeling. And, one of the best parts of my current accidental housewife-dom is that I exercise for about an hour every day. It’s the best. (I kind of hate myself for writing that but there it is).

To be clear, I am by no means an expert at exercise.I’m pretty sure I look like a complete spaz when I exercise but I don’t care. I just do what I like. I don’t believe in investing in work out clothes (seriously, you just get them sweaty, who cares) so I embarrassingly still wear my high school gym shorts. And, I get nervous sometimes when I get on the treadmill that I am going to trip, fly off and kill myself. My only rule about exercise is that you are there to exercise, not chat. These 2 women come to my gym everyday to have intense conversations while walking on the treadmill. I fantasize about knocking them out with a kettle bell. (Consider yourself warned in case one day I do it and need you to bail me out of jail).

I believe whole heartedly that exercise is like therapy (except better because it doesn’t leave you with an emotional hangover and no answers.) And, as it turns out, there is actual research to back this up. I love it when that happens.

My favorite part of exercise, especially running, is that it clears my mind in a way that nothing else can. All I think about is moving my legs, breathing and not falling down. Those who know me can attest that I’m fairly uncoordinated as my embarrassing (and mercifully short lived) high school cheer leading career demonstrated. Thank goodness this was before Youtube or my hilarious attempts at toe touches would have gone viral in like .2 seconds.

I am by no means a fast runner. I follow the “lets take this slow and go as long as my legs will allow” rule. At some point my brain will say, “Hey, we are really tired, can we stop?” and my legs will say, “We’re pretending you don’t exist right now, so bugger off” (my legs are British in my mind) and then I turn up Madonna (The Immaculate Collection is excellent running music) and run a little more until my brain finally wins. If you are like me and enjoy running and reading, I highly recommend checking out Haruki Murakami’s book, What I Talk About When I talk about Running. He is also big on the slow, long run although his are insanely long. I strongly admire marathon runners but I also really like living on earth and I feel like running a marathon might jeopardize that.

For those of you who are reading this and thinking, is she bloody serious, running? Sod off! (I realize the chances any of you are thinking British is like 2% but go with it) I have the perfect work out for you and you don’t even need to leave your house for it. You could even watch TV doing it, (because duh, TV makes most things better). I found this work out on Pinterest and the first time I did it I was sore for 3 days afterwards. But, sore in the best way ever. Also, for the record, I think that burpees were invented by an evil villain with the goal of making us all hate our lives but I still attempt to do them. Do you have any great work outs to share? Or, a more important question, any work out music that you love? Share in the comments, please!

I’ve always been the kind of person who makes friends easily. Unsurprisingly, I was also the kid that always got “talks too much in class” on her report card. My high school choir teacher once complained to my mother that it didn’t matter who he sat me next to because I talked to everyone. He really liked me (not).

This talent I have to make friends has certainly come in handy on my travels and in the many places I’ve lived. But, one of the sad parts about making loads of friends (and moving all the time) is that no one (not even chatty Caro) can actually maintain all those friendships. I sometimes get really sad to think about all the people I used to know that I don’t any more. (Being “friends” on Facebook doesn’t count). It’s not like we had some big blow out fight that caused a rift forever, we just fell out of touch. In many ways, it would be more satisfying if there was a reason that we stopped being friends. But, its just common place stuff: people move, get married, get busy, start families and you lose touch.

So, why is it that some friends remain in your life while others drift off? My 4 college friends have remained my very best friends through all manner of change in our lives. We’ve been friends for 14 years now, a whole teenager life worth of friendship (crazy!). And not just casual friends, real friends, the kind who can tell from how you say hello on the phone if you’re hiding how sad you are. The kind of friends that feel like sisters (except nicer). (JK sissy)(kind of) I am thankful for each and every one of these women and am so glad our friendship has endured but I often wonder why. Maybe because we met at a time in our lives when we were able to form real friendships? Maybe it’s because we got friendship tattoos and named our group? Or maybe some friendships are one in a million.

I read this article on the challenge of making friends as an adult 4 years ago and it stuck with me because so much of it rings true. As he points out, there are basically “three conditions that sociologists since the 1950’s have considered crucial to making close friends: proximity; repeated, unplanned interactions; and a setting that encourages people to let their guard down and confide in each other.” So, basically, college. Because having friends who are close by, with free time to hang out whenever and be vulnerable? Haven’t experienced that in many years.

And then there is the challenge of actually getting together. This New Yorker article demonstrates hilariously (and sadly close to reality) the challenges of getting together as an adult. If it takes a whole month to find a time you can get together how close can you get?

Moving to a new state and being newly married has made making friends a challenge. This is a temporary stop off, the Texan thinks we’ll be moving before next year. So, knowing the effort it takes to make friends as an adult and how much we enjoy just hanging out with each other, I’ve had a hard time mustering up the energy to make loads of friends. So, like the true cool girl that I am, I often turn to books for comfort. Here are my top 5 favorite friendships in books–am I missing any? Which friends in books have you loved?

Little Women I love this book so much. I read it first when I was 13 and have re-read it loads of times. I love the friendship the sisters have and the friendship between Jo and Laurie and basically just all of it. Timeless tale.

Pride and Prejudice Yes, this book is totally about a great love story. I totally married my Mr. Darcy and I love it. But, this is also a story about friendship. Elizabeth and Charlotte have an incredible friendship, it even survives her marrying the most hilariously boring man ever.

Harry Potter I don’t know that I have ever loved any story as much as I love Harry Potter. I could re-read it over and over again. It’s a wonderful world of wizards and magic but at
it’s heart it is a story of enduring friendship. Just think about how quickly Harry would have failed had it not been for Ron and Hermione.

The Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood Sure, you can mock me on this one because I know it sounds super cheesy. But seriously, it’s a lovely story about enduring friendship through a lot of hurt that binds them forever.

The Girls from Ames This is a tale of real, lifelong friends told by a journalist. Many of the women have known each other since birth and stay friends their whole lives. It’s a great, very true read about the power of friendship.

If you told me last year I would be spending my days blogging, knitting, sewing, cooking and reading I probably wouldn’t have believed it. I mean, I would have thought that sounded amazing since last year I was running my millionth campaign and was so stressed out I literally cracked my teeth from grinding them. (Because of this my dentist made me get a $1000 night guard that I no longer need. I’m a little bitter about it).

Teeth grinding jobs aside, I like what I do and have always wanted to work. In a way, I think I have an unhealthy association with work because it is so integral to who I am. Long before I had the Texan or even my cat, I had my job and it was like my kid (assuming your kid pays you moderately to work your butt off for it. So, maybe not like a kid at all, they totally don’t pay). I’m good at what I do. And because of that, I was lulled into a false sense of security that I would always be able to find a job. I lived in places like LA and New York where they value progressive, sassy, small women. (Plus, if you can make it in New York, you can make it anywhere, right? No, as it turns out. Thanks for nothing, old blue eyes). On my first run here, I spied no less than 5 “Don’t Tread on Me” flags and started to get worried. My worries were confirmed by my first small talk conversation where a man gleefully told me “You gotta love a town that supports 4 Walmarts.” And I swear someone played this music. I live in a state that loves Donald Trump. And I’m still in shock about it.

I’m not going to pretend this transition has been easy for me. Just thinking about writing this post while on the treadmill was enough for tears to start streaming down my face (worst). I feel like a failure that I haven’t been able to find work opportunities here. But, the break has been good, too. My previous job wasn’t just a job, it was my life. My nights, weekends, my thoughts when I wasn’t at work, even my dreams (which really sucks). It’s a testament to the awesomeness of the Texan that our relationship survived that time. Suffice it to say, I needed a break. And if Hermione can take a year off to read books and focus on personal development, then why the heck can’t I? We aren’t planning on living here forever and its my sincere hope that the next place we live is a more job friendly environment for me. And, hopefully, one that doesn’t have slot machines at the grocery store. Please.

One of the things that has truly been a healing thing for me is knitting (and exercise, but who wants to hear about exercise? Borrring). There is something satisfying about making something, stitch by stitch. I’m far from an expert knitter and only recently mastered anything beyond a scarf. If you are a good friend of mine, there is strong probability I have sent you some knitted slippers because I’ve been making them like crazy. For those of you out there who are just dying to bust out the yarn and needles, I will share the pattern to make these slippers (or booties, if you prefer). These are super easy, promise! You only need to know how to knit and purl and thank goodness we live in a world with Youtube where there are loads of awesome tutorials.

Knitted Slippers

Items needed:

Knitting needles (I use size 10 1/2)

Yarn (Most yarn will do, go for Vana’s Choice or Lion Brand to start). I can usually make 1 set of slippers using 1 skein

Step 1: Cast on and knit a row as long as you want your slippers to be wide (for adult slippers, I do 28 stitches). You should knit with 2 threads of yarn as 1 just isn’t cushy enough for slippers. You knit just like normal except instead of 1 strand, use 2.

Step 3: Repeat steps 1 and 2, alternating for about 13-15 rows. I usually measure this on my foot, you want this part of the slipper to hit about just below the ball of your foot as you are making the heel of the slipper.

Step 4: Next, you knit the toe of the slipper. Alternate across the row purl 1, knit 1 and repeat for about 8-10 rows. Again, measure on your foot to know how many rows to make.

Tip: I’ve learned that the yarn tends to stretch, so make them a wee bit smaller than your foot.

Step 5: Cast off the last row. Now you should have a square about the size of your foot. Repeat steps 1-5 and make a 2nd slipper (assuming you want 2 and aren’t trying to start a 1 slipper trend).

Step 6: After you have both slipper squares, use your plastic knitting needle to stitch them up. I start with the heel. Make sure to turn the square inside out side up (you should have 2 ridges where you purled). Knit together the back of the slipper the bottom to create the heel of the slipper.

Step 7: Stitch up the toe. I fold the square over a bit so the toe is rounded and knit up the seam until you reach the heel part. Tie off and you’re done! Super cozy slippers, made by your own wee hands! Hooray!

Helllllloooo internet friend! It’s nice of you to stop by on my little corner of the web.

If you are reading this then there is a strong probability you are either related to me, a friend of mine, someone I used to know in high school or work, an ex-boyfriend (you can leave, unless you are just here to be nice and pine, then you can stay), or someone who randomly googled this site to see if I would really post something every minute (you, literal-ist, can also leave). If you’re super curious about the blog name, check out the About section.

For the few of you who don’t know me already, and are dying to know the lady behind all the sass, I will explain. My name is Caroline and I’m a 30-something recently married lady who took her cat and followed her heart and husband to a town in Nevada that boasts the proud distinction of having a slot machine for every 14 people. Seriously.

Before I became a married lady, I lived in many places and had some fun adventures along the way. Detailing them may take a bit so consider yourself warned.

Trees, oh how I miss them

I grew up in a town east of Portland, Oregon where my adventures mostly involved planning elaborate public pranks, admiring trees and learning to drive in the rain while applying make-up (mascara not recommended). I went to college in Southern California where I met my lifelong best friends and learned that no matter where I lived I would never be tan. I also managed to study abroad in England where I picked up a lifelong love for the word dodgy.

New York Caro, ironically in the part of New York I spent the least amount of time.

After college, I moved to New York City as adventurous and hopeful wee lassies tend to do. I lived there for 6 years and you could say New York City was my first serious boyfriend. I loved everything about living in New York, even when I lived in a bedroom the size of my bed. I often wandered the city out of choice, not just because I couldn’t afford a cab (maybe that’s a lie). But, walking has its good parts–my calves were amazing and I still have a map of the city in my mind. I can close my eyes and navigate to my favorite book store and also, who am I kidding, my favorite bar.

But, as fate would have it, New York and I were destine to break up eventually. I was a single lady living in Brooklyn, happily on my own, even secure enough in my single lady status to get a cat. (Just 1 though, when they start out numbering you, you’re in trouble.) I went back to Southern California for my fathers 50th birthday party (where I was decidedly not looking for someone to date). And, of course, I ended up meeting my husband there. You know how everyone always says, (in the annoyingly condescending way only securely coupled people can), “it will happen when you least expect it.” Well, turns out they are right.

The night I met the Texan, class all the way.

My husband-to-be, a big, tall Texan who I feared was a Republican, strolled up to me at this party (where I had already sang drunken karaoke) and asked me if I liked gravy. If you had told young Caro that would be the line my future husband would use I would have probably rolled my eyes and said yeahhhhh okay. But, as it turns out, unlikely and hilarious questions are just the ticket to get into my heart. We talked all night on my parents patio (so high school of us). I gave him my phone number not really believing he would call (I was a jaded New Yorker at this point). But, after many unexpected phone calls and plane trips, we decided to take the plunge and live in the same time zone. I moved back to LA, a place I left 6 years earlier without so much as a backward glance into the glaring, smog filled sunset.

Happy bride to be

And, it turns out, I learned to love LA and domestic bliss. And, he even learned to love my cat, allergies be damned. And, after a few years of respectable co-habitation wherein we learned that we could handle each others more annoying quirks , we ended up getting engaged. Then he got an excellent job opportunity in a Nevada town where bowling is the favorite past time.

And, I guess I really love this bloke because here I am, single gal from the City turned accidental housewife. This is mostly because, after 6 months of looking, I have determined the job opportunities in this town are limited to casino floor operator and I’m not really qualified for that nor are my lungs up to the cancer challenge.

This blog will be a place where I document the trials and tribulations of domestic life. I’ll share some cooking ideas, some crafting, some books and some of the cool stuff I’m seeing online. And hopefully, dear reader, you’ll enjoy the journey because its gonna be great and not as long winded as this post, promise. Here’s to living every minute!